


Soft Shock

by extree



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extree/pseuds/extree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia is lonely and Misty is lovely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Shock

Cordelia had spent the last few days slowly being enchanted by Misty Day. Misty had twirled her way into the house in a whirlwind of blonde locks and lace throws, and she always looked at Cordelia in a way that spoke both of infinite expectations and complete and utter trust. She kept coming to her in the greenhouse with an endless barrage of questions, and after a while, Cordelia started to realize that the flow of information was anything but one-sided. Rather than just absorb Cordelia's knowledge, Misty would match or contrast each and every bit of hard-earned wisdom with her own experience in the swamp, out loud, in that accent of hers.  
  
Misty made her smile, she found, and effortlessly so. Not just when in their conversations she mirrored Misty's expressions in the way the lonely and uncertain often do, but also when Misty wasn't even smiling at all. When she had her hands in a jar of mud, frowning if the texture wasn't quite right, or merely concentrating. When the verbal daggers Madison sent her way zoomed right past her, hit the wall and clattered uselessly to the floor. When she moved around the greenhouse and watered whatever needed watering - and somehow she always knew - while swaying softly to music only she could hear. All of it made Cordelia smile.  
  
And it didn't feel quite right to her that she spent most of the day sitting between her plants, alternately pitying herself and hoping Misty would drop by. Neither was a particularly useful way to spend her time, but Cordelia allowed herself her little moments of wishful thinking, because when Misty did come to her, the self-pity and doubt melted away. She was all soft fabrics, flowery prints and golden light, and she painted over Cordelia's mundane world with her own colors by expressing wonder over things that had become routine for Cordelia long ago.  
  
The word "inappropriate" often ghosted around in her mind as she tossed and turned in her bed, but Cordelia absolutely refused to grab hold of the thought and deal with it. It wasn't relevant. It had no reason to be there. Misty just cheered her up, and that was all. Her wide-eyed enthusiasm and childlike curiosity were infectious. Who wouldn't want to spend time with someone who makes you feel useful and, maybe, wanted? "Wanted" was a word slightly more difficult to ignore in the middle of the night, however. Billowy dresses and flowery shawls danced before her brand new (well, second hand) eyes in those last few seconds before sleep came and slowed her racing mind into a brief slumber.  
  
But maybe, Cordelia told herself, even though she insisted that nothing whatsoever was strange about it, she shouldn't spend quite so much time looking at Misty when she was around. And it might have been a better idea still to stand a bit further away from her so that Misty might not take her hand when she wanted to lead her somewhere and show her something. It would definitely be wise not to put her hands on Misty's shoulders when she asked her to come and make sure that she was pruning the right leaves or stirring something in precisely the right way. And she could certainly refrain from leaning in to the touch when Misty moved in close to remove a little twig from her hair, or brush away a little bit of dirt on her face.  
  
Which was all very well in theory, but Misty wasn't exactly cooperating. Each and every small victory needed to be celebrated with a high five - which Cordelia was getting better at; she hadn't had much practice before she came along - or a hug. Misty was just a very tactile person, Cordelia thought to herself, completely ignoring the simple reality that it takes two to touch. And she could easily excuse the hugs, because they had never really lingered. Until they did. Maybe the faint smell of patchouli, earth and bark was getting to her head, but right after a particularly beautiful plant had been brought back from complete dehydration with just a few drops of Misty's modified mud concoction and a light spot of incantation, their celebratory embrace definitely lasted a little longer than was necessarily normal. After that, Cordelia couldn't look at Misty's long blonde hair without remembering how it felt against her skin.  
  
She told herself it was okay to let Misty decide how tactile she wanted to be with her. All that time alone in that desolate hut in the swamp would make even the most stand-offish person long for physical contact, Cordelia thought. And if she could provide that little bit of comfort to her, well then, she was prepared and willing.  
  
But none of those thoughts and rules and excuses had prepared her for the time Misty very simply and sweetly kissed her cheek in response to a compliment on the poinsettia plant she had been been practicing spells on. She had somehow turned it purple. Absolutely no practical use for it, but Cordelia thought it was gorgeous, and told Misty just so. Misty had giggled, thanked her, and kissed her cheek. It was over before Cordelia had fully realized it had happened, and her smile broke and fell from her face in soft shock and confusion. She regretted it, because when Misty saw her reaction, her mirthful look faltered and made way for something that broke Cordelia's heart to see was not just embarrassment, but also hurt.  
  
Quickly, clumsily, Cordelia put on a grin and patted Misty on the shoulder, hoping the gesture was enough to assure her that nothing was wrong, and no boundaries had been crossed. Relief flooded over her when Cordelia saw the corners of Misty's mouth crack upwards into a tentative smile again. Much later, when all the work that needed doing had been done and Misty had gone back into the house, Cordelia had to tell herself that no, Misty hadn't blushed, and nor had she.  
  
That night, Cordelia was sleepless. Walking through the garden with the moon shining down, she came across a softly swaying Misty with her back turned towards her, crocheted shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her bare feet planted in the grass. Cordelia walked up to her. She was too tired, too awake, too lonely to resist the pull. Their shoulders brushed and after the initial surprise, Misty smiled in greeting and then turned back to look at the moon. The pair of them simply stood there in silence for a series of blissfully tranquil moments, listening to the crickets, their own breathing, and the wind rustling the leaves.  
  
Cordelia felt soothed, safe in their silence, until she became aware of her hands reaching up to touch the fabric of Misty's shawl. She saw her fingers close around the wool and gently pull the other woman towards her until their bodies made contact. She listened, but she didn't hear the voice in her head telling her to stop and pull away. _Was this okay?_ Cordelia looked up from her own hands and noticed that Misty didn't look very childlike or curious at all in this pale moonlight, but knowing, rather, and strong. The faint smile on her face seemed to have a purpose, now. Encouraging. _It's okay._ Misty placed her hands over Cordelia's and guided them around her neck, then slid her own arms around the older woman's waist.  
  
Misty's lips fit just right against her own and the skin of her neck felt electric beneath Cordelia's fingertips. With the moon as their only witness, they kissed slowly and touched softly, putting lips to loneliness and kissing away fears until their lips were sore. Wordlessly, effortlessly, Cordelia took Misty by the hand and only let go once they were both under the covers of Cordelia's bed and sleep came to pull them apart and away into separate worlds. By pale morning light, the first thing Cordelia saw was Misty, breathing soft, lying where loneliness lay before her.


End file.
